My Mission
by The Mocking J
Summary: Emmy makes a choice at the Azran sanctuary that changes Aurora's fate, as well as her own. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

**[[Spoilers: **For Azran Legacy.

**Set: **AU, starting with Emmy's perspective at the Azran Sanctuary.**]]**

* * *

**My Mission**

"Don't look at me like that, girl."

It's not Uncle Leon she's looking at. It's _me._

Pale blue eyes, pleading. No glint of betrayal- she still doesn't blame me.

That same look she gave when she asked what I thought of her Azran robes, as though the fate of the world depended on it. She seemed like a school girl forced to wear a uniform. She was so much more at ease walking around in her disguise.

But what did I know? I told her the robes were part of who she was and sent her off to complete her mission.

I'm no better than the people of Hoogland, am I?

Aurora kept marching on, even after she read the inscription from the Azran column (I already knew it word for word) and her memories returned.

Whatever she remembered was so terrible that she nearly jumped from the top of the Nest. (I'd forgotten how high it was; Uncle rarely let me visit his office...)

Professor Layton managed to talk her down, and at that point I almost told him the truth. Almost, until Descole stole the keystone.

Despite everything he's done, I doubt Descole would stab Aurora. He was always so gentle with her, even when he took the keystone from her hands. You could argue he was doing her a _favour._

It was the professor's decision to follow Descole in the Bostonius. I didn't even have to push him.

All I did was threaten Luke, but I let him go earlier. Why did Aurora enter that coffin so willingly?

I stare back at her. In her gaze, I see Arianna; icy and despondent, but brightening with hope when she learns she'll recover. I see Nina, asking if she can go home. There's Bonnie, lost without her mother, but also Button, defiant as she faces the jungle.

And Luke, begging me to _think._

_Please try to understand, Aurora,_ I think. _This is MY mission._

The world is at stake, but my world would be nothing without Uncle Leon.

I turn to him as he studies the knife. See? He's hesitating. He's finally going to see the light-

"I will not be swayed..."

I glance at Aurora. What is she waiting for? Can't she turn away or shield her heart or something-

"Not after everything I've been through to get here!"

Uncle Leon lifts the knife. The professor is too late- all he can do is shout.

_Think, Emmy._

Without my uncle, I never would have met the professor and Luke... Or _would I? _

The blade flashes through the air.

_Think._

My world stops spinning as I knock the knife out of Uncle Leon's hand. Disbelieving, he looks from the weapon to me.

"Think about what you're doing," I gasp, "please, Uncle-"

Everything falls out of orbit when he strikes me across the face. He sends me reeling to the floor but by then, the professor and Luke have reached us.

The professor has never looked so angry. For a split second, I see the resemblance between him and Bronev.

He grabs the knife from the floor, aims it at Bronev and orders Luke to free Aurora. Keeping Bronev at bay, the professor offers me a hand up.

I take his hand and the world starts anew.


	2. Chapter 2

And so, Professor Layton saves the world from a terrible fate.

As we retrieve an injured Descole and escape the Azran sanctuary, Aurora reveals what that fate would have been. A plague of golems. Servants-turned-destroyers of the Azran people that were- still are- imprisoned in the sanctuary.

If I had stood by while Uncle- Bronev pierced Aurora's heart, the golems would have been unleashed. Humanity would have been wiped out… all because of me.

Police officers are waiting outside when we emerge from the melted ice cave. Inspector Grosky is among them.

An icicle drips onto my neck.

I adjust my hold on Descole- or rather, Desmond since we removed his mask, hat and cape- using his unconscious body as a shield.

The professor has been pushing Bronev out of the sanctuary at knife-point, but he lowers the knife the instant Grosky intervenes.

"You're mine, Bronev!"

I hear handcuffs rattling.

All this precaution seems pointless- Bronev doesn't put up a fight. He simply huffs, "I alone?"

The drip becomes a crevasse splitting down my spine. He might as well have taken that knife and slashed me in the back.

Who am I kidding? I'm the only back-stabber here- on both sides. Even as a traitor, I'm a total failure.

Grosky hums and glances at Desmond and I.

Like the mole I am, I bury my face in Desmond's shoulder. Despite his singed clothes and hair, he still smells slightly of fruit… Somehow, I find this reassuring.

"What happened to Professor Sycamore?" Grosky probes. He's not an idiot- of course he recognises Descole's suit…

"H-he saved me from an Azran trap," Luke pipes up.

Grosky looks at the professor.

The professor adds urgently, "He needs medical attention. May we leave?"

Grosky nods and his scrutiny returns to Bronev.

"Let's get him to the Bostonius," the professor breathes.

Luke and Aurora run on ahead.

"Emmy," the professor prompts. I tear my gaze away from Bronev, despite knowing this might be the last time I ever see him.

The professor takes Desmond's other arm and together, we carry him to the woodland clearing where we left the Bostonius. For Desmond's sake, I hope it's still able to fly…

"Professor," Luke calls. He and Aurora have stopped at the bottom of the airship's metal stairs.

I'm so drained at this point, but I still prepare myself for a fight. Have a bunch of Targent agents commandeered the ship? I've already turned on my uncle. I have no qualms about knocking out a bunch of grunts…

But the only person waiting at the top of the stairs is Raymond.

If it weren't for Desmond's burned body, we could pretend we were bringing back another Azran egg.

Raymond has never looked so ruffled.

"Master," he gasps, almost tripping down the stairs in his haste to meet us. He could easily grab Desmond and flee in the Bostonius, like he did back at the Nest. Instead, he orders, "Get him onboard."

We follow him onto the Bostonius and lay Desmond on the settee. Raymond kneels at Desmond's side. While he assesses the damage, he assigns duties to everyone except me. The professor starts up the Bostonius, Aurora goes to fetch the First Aid Kit and Luke explains what happened at the Azran sanctuary.

Luke stumbles when he reaches the part about my betrayal. Raymond frowns at me. Luke shoots me an apologetic glance- as if he has anything to apologise for- and insists that I helped defeat Bronev in the end.

At that moment, Desmond lets out a pained moan and Raymond immediately turns back to him. He takes Desmond's hand, muttering, "Master…"

My own hands clench into fists. Who is Raymond fooling? He's not Desmond's butler. Desmond doesn't treat him like a servant. He's… he's like…

I stomp over to the helm, where the professor is manning the Bostonius' controls (much better than when we flew from the Nest).

"Are you alright, Emmy?" He's asked me that plenty of times before, almost out of obligation. I'd reply with a hearty "Aye aye, Professor!" or roll my eyes and tell him to not to worry so much.

Now, there's a softness in his voice, as if he fears I might shatter.

"Fine," I huff.

I freeze when a hand pats my shoulder.

"We'll get through this," the professor sighs, "I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

When Layton suggests Aurora could attend the local girls' school, Aurora's answer shocks us all. "But I am not... a girl."

"W-what?" Luke almost slides off the professor's office settee.

I'm sitting beside him, but not close enough to help him up. The last time I touched him, just trying to take his cardie... he flinched.

He straightens himself and stares at Aurora as if she's sprouted a second head.

The professor simply nods. (Maybe we're not all shocked.) "So, you're..."

Aurora's eyes are hooded. Since she's wearing casual clothes again, it's easy to forget she's existed for over a million years. Not technically a teenage 'girl', but then, she spent most of her time trapped in the ice.

"I meant to tell you sooner..." She falters. It's been two weeks since we left Froenborg. One week since Desmond disappeared from hospital.

Shame weighs heavy on Aurora's face. She manages to gaze at the three of us in turn and admits, "I'm a golem."

"Ah..." Luke tries to recover from his stupor, to reassure her. "Like the ones you... you told us about at the sanctuary?"

Aurora tilts her head. "We are not quite the same. From what I remember, they are more... mechanical in appearance, built for labour and later-" She clasps her hands over her heart. "-combat... I was designed to resemble an Azran, so that I might mislead the descendants who came after them... C-can you all forgive me-"

I surge to my feet. "There's nothing to forgive!"

She falls silent. The professor and Luke glance warily at me. Dammit- I've done it again. Might as well power on now...

"You have nothing to apologise for, Aurora." I storm towards her. "The Azran locked you away- and your memories. They used you to enact their plans." I take her clasped hands, pulling them apart and down to her sides. Her palms are so soft compared to my own. "None of that was your fault."

I notice my reflection in her eyes as she whispers, "And neither was it yours."

She's wrong... Isn't she?

I think back to my uncle.

He'd stay up long into the night studying the Azran, letting me fall asleep in his office. I'd wake up in my bed the next morning.

For all his grouching about how utterly asinine it was for me to learn cooking, he'd still test my food.

He would train me until my bones broke, though he would always bandage me up afterwards.

One time I recall him praising me for punching my archaeology teacher in the nose.

He shot down my suggestions for a 'bird' codename. " You might as well wear a Targent name tag!"

When I was bullied by the older recruits, he ordered me to fight back. I was rewarded with 'my own uniform' for my success in finally overcoming them.

If I sneaked out, he bolted the doors and windows shut, so I had to find a way to bust in without alerting him.

He let me date whoever I liked, as long as it didn't interfere with 'our' ultimate goal.

He looked ready to strangle me that day I nearly got arrested, but he relented when I stammered that I'd been saved by Professor Layton.

My chumminess with Inspector Grosky, on the other hand, he did not approve of.

Constantly, he reminded me that the professor and Luke were targets, not friends. I was growing too fond of them and my fake identity. ("Becoming the mask," as Desmond would say.)

To them, I was- still am- Emmy Altava, Professor Layton's assistant.

To Uncle Leon, I was always Emmeline Bronev. His adopted niece, who he treated like a tool.

I snort and squeeze my eyes shut. Tears would be a relief I don't deserve.

So I have a tragic past. Doesn't everyone? That doesn't excuse Desmond's actions.

Mr I-Lost-My-Own-Family-So-Allow-Me-To-Threaten-Yours manipulated Clark, Jakes, Whistler and Randall. Three of those four kidnapped children. I should join the club since I held a blade to Luke's throat! Luke still has the scars to prove it.

"Yes, it was," I correct Aurora. "I made a choice-"

"Your choice saved the world!" Aurora cries. It's the most emotion I've ever heard from her. She's not a machine, or a manipulator. All I see before me is a young girl.

My breath hitches and I hug her. Finally, I let the tears flow.

I wipe them away when I release Aurora. Luke looks teary too... and why is the professor covering his eyes?

He fixes his hat and returns to the matter of Aurora's future. "Whatever you decide to do, we will support you." He smiles at Aurora, but it reaches me as well.

I've only just escaped my past. I haven't put much thought into the future.

Dariya mentioned working for the World Times...

"Yeah!" Luke skips over to grab Aurora's hand. "If you want to go to school, I can help you study!"

"Thank you, Luke," Aurora says earnestly, "but I don't think I would... fit in at a school."

"Of course you will! You'll make loads of friends!"

"It's not that." Aurora picks at the ends of her hair. "I was created as I am, and I'm uncertain if I will ever change. People may notice..."

Luke's eyes widen. "You mean you... won't get any older?"

Aurora smiles down at him sadly. "One day, you will be taller than me."

Luke takes a moment to process this. Then, he swings their linked hands. "It doesn't matter. We'll still be friends! Right, Professor? Emmy...?"

"Of course," the professor agrees. "Time and distance can't tarnish true friendship."

...But betrayal and the law can. Thanks to my ties to Targent, I doubt the police will ever trust me again, especially Superintendent Grosky. That distrust will extend to Professor Layton if I accompany him on any more cases.

Hopefully, Grosky will let me off the hook, but that's going to take time.

We have time now. And freedom. No more Azran, Targent, or missions. The world is ours to explore.

"Righto," I tell Luke, forcing a smile. I don't have the heart to tell him my plans yet.

"What's that noise?" Aurora glances at the window when we hear a tinkly tune.

Luke rushes to the window and gasps, "Ice-cream!"

Aurora echoes, "Ice-?"

"Ice-cream! Come on, Aurora! You have to try some!"

He drags her out of the office... and then darts straight back in. "Professor, can we borrow some money? Please?"

Chuckling, the professor gives him a five pound note and Luke charges out before they miss the ice-cream truck.

"Will they be alright on their own?" I say.

"I doubt anything will impede Luke in his pursuit of ice cream," the professor laughs lightly.

We watch from the window as Luke waves down the ice-cream truck. Standing on his tiptoes, he orders four ice-creams: One strawberry, one vanilla and two chocolate.

He passes the strawberry one to Aurora. She takes a tentative bite- somehow avoiding a brain-freeze- and the look that crosses her face is pure bliss.

I wonder, "Do you think she'll ever age?"

"Only time will tell," the professor says sagely. "For now, at least, she's here and she's safe."

"So... does that mean she'll be staying with you?" (At this rate, Hershel Layton will have an orphanage by the time he's forty!)

The professor hums and folds his arms. "I'd be more than happy to accommodate her. The problem is, I only have one spare room. Luke often uses-"

"Luke won't mind," I say. "He would do anything for her..."

Outside, Luke chats to Aurora as he wolfs down his chocolate ice cream. He's juggling the two other cones in one hand.

"Wouldn't you?"

The professor's question catches me off guard.

"Of course I would!" I retort, turning from the window to face him. He's grinning like he's solved a 90 Picarat puzzle while I'm still stumped.

I huff, "What...?"

My jaw drops as his so-called solution dawns on me. I point a finger at my chest.

He nods, still grinning.

I gaze out the window again, at the ancient Azran girl I chose to protect.

Aurora and Emmy Altava?

...The professor has most definitely lost his marbles.


	4. Chapter 4

First thing's first; we'll need to get some fake documents for Aurora. And for that, we'll need Desmond Sycamore, master of forgery.

Desmond can't have travelled too far if he's still recovering...

Professor Layton has a theory as to his current hiding place.

The professor asks his parents where they found 'little Hershel' thirty years ago. Mr and Mrs Layton reveal that it was in the little village of Ambelmere in Cumbria. All along, they knew 'Hershel' wasn't his birth name, but they went along with the facade after receiving a heartfelt letter from his older brother.

Tearfully, they beg the professor's forgiveness for keeping everything a secret from him. ( Uncle Lean couldn't hold a candle to either of these two, could he?)

The professor assures them it doesn't change anything. They are and always will be his parents. His name is Hershel Layton.

He announces this so firmly that I offer to find Desmond by myself.

The professor protests, of course, but I'm not staying behind to babysit. Aurora on her own would be fine, but Luke...

I can hardly bear to be alone in a room with him anymore.

This is my last task as Professor Layton's assistant: Tracking down his lost brother... in the town where the Bronev family once lived.

It takes over five hours to get there from London. Desmond might be on the move, but I'm not breaking the speed limit for him. The last thing I need is to get pulled over by the police and besides, my scooter sounds like its on its last legs. Rattling noises aside, I enjoy the ride, letting the wind flow through my hair. It's gotten so long again...

I pass a small hairstylists' stand when I stop at a service station.

Uncle... Bronev's voice rumbles through my head; it would be so much more practical if I kept my hair short-

"You alright there?"

The stylist- a curvy woman with hair so red it can only be dyed- is staring at me. I blink, unclench my jaw and fumble for my purse.

"Can I...?"

"Cut and blow dry?" With a flourish, she conjures up shampoo and conditioner from a shelf.

I shake my head as if I'm in a daze. "Don't have time, sorry." (Desmond has probably escaped to Scotland by now.)

"Just a trim, then?" She pouts and I take pity on her. I'm probably the first customer she's seen all day.

"Just a trim," I repeat firmly.

I blush a little as she beams. She leads me behind the stand and sits me down in a round leather chair.

She hums, running her fingers through the curls framing my face. I close my eyes. All thoughts of Bronev evaporate.

"How much d'you want off the end?" (Oh- she was just measuring the length.) "An inch?"

"That's fine," I agree hastily.

"Good. You've got such lovely thick hair." She giggles and goes to grab some scissors and a smelly spray bottle. "Won't be long..."

Snip, snip, snip- and she's done. She holds a heart-shaped mirror up for me to inspect her work.

True to her word, she's taken off no more than an inch, including off my fringe. She's tidied up all the lose ends, while still retaining the bounciness of my curls. And it looks so shiny.

I grin at her in the reflection of the mirror. "Thank you!" I gush.

I pay for the cut- more than she was expecting- and in return she gives me a business card for 'Bree's Hair and Beauty' with a phone number on it.

Bree (assuming that's her name) winks at me. "Call me whenever you need a cut- or anything. I'm a travelling stylist."

I doubt she'll be travelling quite as far as me, but maybe when I come back...

I nod and reply, "I'm Emmy, by the way."

Reinvigorated, I continue my journey to Ambelmere. I wonder... Would Desmond recognise me if I had gotten my hair chopped shorter? I could have used the element of surprise...

But at the end of the day, I still have to face him. And I'd much rather do that as myself.

I'm not bending for anyone, ever again.

* * *

The sheer might of my will alone is not enough to drive me through the English Lake District. I'm forced to ditch my scooter and make it to Ambelmere on foot.

The houses are fancy but spread far apart amongst hills and fields, separated by dilapidated dry stone walls.

I imagine two young brothers balancing along these walls. The littler one loses his footing, falls off and lets out a wail.

An angelic, golden-haired version of the Bronev I know rushes out to collect him. He puts a plaster on the boy's knee and gently lifts him to his feet.

Holding the little boy's hand- and the older boy's hand on his other side- he takes them home.

'Home' is a renovated white farmhouse with a red-tiled roof and cross-hatched windows.

I peer at the address the professor gave me on a scrap of paper. This is definitely it.

A paddock of cows "Moo!" at me as I march past. If Luke was here, he'd say they were cheering me on.

I knock the front door and step back. I expect cold silence, Bronev's usual response whenever I tapped on his office door, but instead I hear footsteps hurtling down stairs and a child's cry as the door opens.

"Daddy!"

The little girl deflates when she sees that's I'm not her father. "Muuum!" She dashes back inside, leaving the door wide open.

I get a peek of the hall. If I'd hoped to see Bronev family photos or heirlooms, I'm sorely mistaken.

A lady wearing a blue hijab fills the doorway, blocking my view.

"Can I help you?"

"Um... Hi." I clear my throat. "I'm looking for Professor Desmond Sycamore?" She's giving me a flat look, like I'm trying to sell her something she clearly doesn't want. I continue, "He lived here... about thirty years ago-"

"I'm not that old," she scoffs.

"He might also go by the name 'Hershel Bronev'- Wait!"

The door slams shut. I resist the urge to stick my foot in there. I lift the bronze letterbox flap and holler, "He's a famous archaeologist!"

Inside, I hear the little girl chattering to her mother.

"Did she say ar-key-ola-gist?"

The letterbox flap opens on the other side. A pair of brown eyes peep out at me. "I know an ar-key-ologist! He came to talk at my school!"

Well, there's a surprise. From how he treated the Bardes, Nina and Luke during our earlier adventures, I didn't think Desmond was that fond of young children.

"Where?" I demand. "Where is he now?"

The mother sighs and pulls the girl aside.

"Try the Ambel Arms Inn," she grunts. "Now please, go away."

"Thank you!" I gasp and set off running for the inn. Twenty minutes later, I'm there.

It's the type of place that would feature in an old folktale on a dark and stormy night, complete with a low roof, window shutters and a stable. A perfect hideout for Descole, but I expected something more upscale for Desmond.

I poke my head into the stable- What sort of modern accommodation has a stable but no space for parking?- and I see several horses munching on hay.

One brown horse is being brushed by a stooped elderly man. As I sneak towards them, the horse stomps and snorts, giving away my position.

The man turns to me. Much to my shock, he's shaved off his beard and his moustache since I last saw him.

"Ah..." Raymond bows his head. "Knew it would only be a matter of time before you caught up with us. Is Professor Layton here?"

"Just me, I'm afraid," I reply. "Desmond will have to go and see the professor himself."

Raymond nods, as if he wants to agree with me. "Right... Follow me, then."

I duck into the Ambel Arms behind him. My stomach rumbles when I smell Cumberland sausage, eggs, chips and other pub meals. The inn doesn't come close to five stars, but the food might.

Dinner will have to wait, unfortunately.

Raymond nods to the innkeeper- a woman knitting at the front desk- and he leads me to their lodgings at the back of the inn.

Raymond raps on Desmond's door five times (surely a secret signal) before he announces, "Master, we have company."

There's a beleaguered sigh from within the room. "What kind of company?"

"A family friend," Raymond answers in the tone of a parent trying to drag his son down for dinner.

Sullen silence is our only response. Raymond takes this as a positive sign. Raymond opens the door and gestures for me to go ahead.

I enter to find Desmond Sycamore occupying a red velvet armchair far too regal for the rest of the room. Balanced on the arm of the chair is a book... Some sort of romantic-mystery novel by Annie Dretch.

Desmond has made a swift recovery from his injuries, but he seems thinner and his hair is a little bit shorter- less curled. He must have cut off the singed ends.

What unnerves me are his eyes; bloodshot and lined from a lack of sleep, they're almost identical to Bronev's.

Desmond grumbles and the sound reverberates through my bones, jarringly similar.

"Emmy Altava..." He arches a eyebrow that's slightly burned off at the tip. "Or is it Emmeline Bronev?"

Do you prefer Desmond or Descole these days? The retort is dancing on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. We need his help. I can't afford to offend him.

"Emmy is fine," I grind out. I jump straight to the chase. "Aurora needs some fake ID." (You'd think I was trying to sneak her into a club or something...)

He hums. "For that, she would at the very least require a surname, a birth date and a place of birth. You are aware that she won't age-?"

I don't need him mansplaining for me. "Aurora already told us everything. Can you help or not?"

"Of course." He stands up, goes to crouch beside his bed and retrieves a black briefcase that I recognise from the Bostonius. He pulls out a leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen sharp enough to be used as a sword. He begins to write.

"For her birthdate, we'll use the day we found her, sixteen years prior... For her birth place, Froenborg is a safe bet..."

"In that case, her birth parents might as well be from Froenborg," I suggest.

"Agreed... Let's say they were both killed in a freak avalanche," Desmond adds, a tad too enthusiastically. "Layton will be her new guardian, I presume?"

"The professor and I talked about this..." I falter when his gaze cuts to me again. "He thinks... I should be the one to adopt Aurora- at least, on paper."

"You?" Desmond snorts. "Are you quite sure that you're qualified for the role?"

With my awful upbringing? No, not really. If I ever so much as snap at Aurora, I'm sending her straight back to the professor.

I picture Aurora's gentle, honest face. Despite everything I've been through and done, she said that my choice saved the world in the end. I betrayed Bronev to save her.

I won't let any memories of him taint my future with Aurora.

"Yes," I decide. "I am."

I glare daggers at Desmond, daring him to argue. He can't talk- how many kids has he hurt with his schemes? Where is his daughter now...?

If he tries to take Aurora, I'll hunt him down to the ends of the Earth.

Our glaring contest is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Master," Raymond intervenes, popping into the room, "some tea for you and Miss Altava." He puts two steaming mugs on the coffee table beside the chair.

"Thank you," I sigh, glad for the distraction. I honestly don't want to fight Desmond. With the shape he's in right now, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Desmond huffs and takes a sip of tea. Suddenly, he makes a face like he's sucking on a lemon.

"I put the medicine in your tea," Raymond explains. Without his facial hair, it's easier to see his smile.

"Cheers, Raymond. That will be all."

"Aye, Master." He shuffles out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

I turn back to Desmond. "Why does he still call you that?"

Desmond finishes his tea before he shrugs and answers, "He's a butler..."

"I've never met a butler like him before."

Doland acts as Clark's chauffeur, but he can't steer an airship. Henry built a city for Randall, but he didn't stand by while it was nearly destroyed. Rosa dotes on Professor Layton, but I doubt she could storm an army to save him.

Desmond's temper flares again as he defends his friend. "Raymond is undyingly loyal -" He sneers that last word at me. "He has protected my family for years-"

"Then where are your wife and daughter?" That's a low blow even for me- I'm well aware of what Bronev did- but it has the desired effect.

"My...!" Desmond lowers his voice and glances furtively at the door. With a sigh, he looks down at his hands. "...Mira was part of Targent- she trained new recruits."

My jaw drops. He might as well have said he married Loosha.

Female agents were rare in Targent. Most of the instructors I knew blur into a faceless mass. If Bronev ever brought Mira to train me, I don't remember her.

Still, Desmond tries to stir my memory. "She was a Targent traitor... rather like yourself. That's just one of the reasons why she and Anne were executed." Desmond frowns into his mug. "I think- Raymond thinks- that I still blame him for what happened."

It's more than that, though. Raymond doesn't merely follow Desmond out of guilt or obligation. He allowed Desmond to do all of those horrible things, even though it went against his better judgement, because he feared he would lose Desmond.

"You should talk to him," I mumble. Before it's too late.

Desmond nods and shuts the notebook on his lap, putting an end to our sentimental exchange.

"If that's everything, I'll have Aurora's documents sent to you in due course."

He waves towards the door, dismissing me. What does he think I am- a secretary? I didn't come all this way just to leave empty-handed!

"How long will that take?" I ask suspiciously.

"A matter of weeks, I expect."

"Don't even think about sabotaging those documents," I warn him. "Or you'll find yourself on the front page of the World Times." Imagine the headlines! 'Descole: The Man Behind the Mask'...

Desmond snarls, "I'm doing this for Aurora's sake. She deserves to live free from the Azran."

I nod, because it's a universal truth. It's what we all want: To leave the Azran behind. To be free.

Desmond opens the door for me. "Enjoy being a single mother..." Standing in the doorway, he stares at me for a moment as if he wants to say something more. His hands curl into fists, but then he loosens them. He lets out a sigh. "Take care of Aurora."

* * *

A mere four weeks later, Aurora's documents arrive at the professor's office.

Part of me wishes Desmond hadn't kept his word. Then we wouldn't have to say goodbye...

The professor drives us to the airport, since I've already sold my scooter. I offer to take the wheel for old time's sake, but the professor is adamant that we make it there in one piece.

I gaze out the window as we cross Tower Bridge. Maybe I should test out my new camera. This will be the last time I see London for who-knows-how-long. I could compare two photos of the city when we return: Then and Now.

Luke could be a teenager by then...

I listen as he babbles to Aurora about all the exciting things she and I will see while we're away. His voice is still light and cheerful, but he's definitely picked up a London accent since I first met him. I can't imagine him with the deeper tones of a young man.

We'll come back to visit way before that, though. Luke made me promise ten million times.

He insists on carrying Aurora's bag into the airport. ("That's what a gentleman does!")

Aurora hasn't got that much luggage- Dariya told us to pack lightly- but we still had to go on a shopping spree last week with Rosa as our personal stylist. While Rosa's input was greatly appreciated, I can't stop thinking about another stylist who could have helped us...

The professor's voice bursts my daydream bubble. "Do you want a hand there, Emmy?"

I'm dawdling right in the middle of the airport terminal. Damn...

"Dangit," I mutter. I better not space out like that when I'm meant to be looking after Aurora.

"Emmy?" the professor asks again.

Shaking my head, I heft my duffle bag onto my shoulder. "Thanks, Professor, but I think I'll manage."

He winks at me. "I know you will."

We follow Luke and Aurora to the check-in desk. Aurora looks tense for a moment when the airport staff scan her passport, but there's no problem with it.

"Enjoy your flight, Miss Altava!"

Let's hope that, whatever Aurora is made of, she doesn't set off the security scanners...

The professor and Luke can't come any further with us.

"Well..." I start, turning to the two of them. "I suppose this is it..."

"Oh, no," the professor says brightly, "this is simply a new beginning."

"Another chapter in the story of our lives," Aurora adds, taking the analogy even further. "But I know our lives will continue to intertwine."

"We'll see each other again soon," Luke translates. He fixes me with a fierce frown. "You promised."

"A true lady never breaks a promise," I recite.

Luke's frown wobbles. He bites his lip. "D-don't forget...!" He holds Aurora's bag out to her with both hands.

Aurora takes the bag. Arms still out-stretched, Luke catches her in a hug.

"I won't forget," Aurora whispers, nestling her chin on his head. "Not for a million years."

I smile at them with the professor. Then the professor faces me and I feel a lump rising in my throat.

Those cherished memories of Uncle Leon from my childhood... That tender part of him that I hopelessly tried to save... It was standing right next to me all along, embodied entirely in Professor Layton.

"So long, Professor..."

"Thank you, Emmy."

It's me who should be thanking him, after everything he's done, but the words elude me.

Warm, encouraging and secure, he rests his hands on my shoulders. I roughly pull him into a hug. He's shocked at first, but I soon feel his arms around my back.

He only lets go when Aurora steps towards us.

She says, "Professor...?"

"Yes, Aurora?"

"Please can you take care of this for me?" She rolls up her sleeve and removes the Azran pendant she has been wearing as a bracelet. She passes it to the professor, pressing it into his hand.

"Do you wish for me to study it?" the professor intones.

"No," Aurora quietly corrects him. "I wish for you to keep it safe, where no one will ever find it."

"I know just the place..."

He lifts up his hat. Luke and I gasp as we catch a glimpse of short brown hair. The pendant goes on his head, hidden under his hat.

"It's only a temporary means," he chuckles when he notices our gaping mouths.

Aurora giggles like a schoolgirl. "Thanks, Professor."

We look up as there's an announcement- passengers are now boarding our plane!

I grab Aurora's hand. "We'd better get going. Goodbye, Professor! Bye, Apprentice-"

I can't escape that easily. Luke tackles me. I stand, frozen, with Luke's arms flung around my waist. I'm still holding Aurora's hand on one side. She lets go.

Slowly, gently, I return Luke's hug. He's shaking, but it's not out of fear.

His words are muffled and wet against my shirt. "See you... Emmy."

I can barley hold back a sob. "See you soon, Apprentice Number One."

* * *

I stomp into the Hôtel de Cillon, fuming. "No one in the world can move that fast." ...And that's coming from someone who has outrun Black Ravens and giant robots.

Aurora trails behind me, studying my failed attempts at action shots. "It almost looks as if he is dancing... See?" She shows me a blurry image of our target: A phantom thief dressed in blue, caught mid-spin.

I groan. "That's such an awful shot... What am I going to tell Dariya-?"

"Tell her you'll try again tomorrow night," Dariya suggests, strolling towards us from the reception area.

"We're sorry," Aurora mumbles.

Dariya waves off her apology. "Relax, you're still in training."

That excuse might work for Aurora- it's her first job as my 'assistant'- but not for me. I've gotten photos of spectres, masked gentlemen and deadly ruins in the past. This should be a piece of cake!

My scowl deepens.

" Maybe this will make you smile," Dariya says. From her handbag, she reveals a white envelope with a red wax seal.

Aurora gasps and accepts the envelope. "It must be a letter from Luke and the professor! Look, they've given us some kind of puzzle..."

Scrawled on the envelope in black ink is a ten digit number. Wait, isn't that Dariya's handwriting...?

"Oh, that's no puzzle," Dariya snickers when I glance at her. "A lady called for Emmy earlier. She left her phone number. What was her name again...?"

"Bree?" I breathe.

"Emmy, you're blushing," Aurora points out. Her voice takes on a mischievous lilt, unusual for her. Did she get that from Luke?

Dariya purses her lips at me. "Sounds like you've got a fan-"

"Read the letter," I splutter to Aurora.

Grinning, Aurora carefully opens the letter and begins to read aloud. "To my dear friends, Emmy and Aurora..."


End file.
